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Black Is the Colour

de The Corrs

Black is the colour of my true love's hair
His lips are like some roses fair
He's the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands
And I love the ground whereon he stands

I love my love and well he knows
I love the ground where on he goes
How I wish the time would soon come
When he and I can be as one

I go to the Clyde and mourn and weep
for satisfied I'd never sleep
I write him a letter, just a few short lines
And I suffer death ten thousand times

Black is the colour of my true love's hair
His lips are like some roses fair
He's the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands
And I love the ground whereon he stands
I love the ground whereon he stands
I love, I love, I love the ground where on he stands

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